In the Distance
by Jones.A
Summary: "Does Hotch know about this, Spencer?" "I don't think so. But he knows something's wrong." "How do you figure?" she asked. "He asked me if I was depressed." "Are you?" Emiliy Prentiss comes home for a visit and quickly realize that's something's not right with Spencer, but she can't get him to talk even though she knows he's in deep water, so she leaves the matter to Hotch.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! There's been a while since i've written a story, so I hope I'm not too rusty. I just want to say that any kind of feedback will make me super happy! Also, thank you so much everyone who gave me feedback, favorited/followed my previous stories.**

 **I hope you like it :)**

 **IN THE DISTANCE**

It was always Emily who saw Spencer for who he was. And it was always Emily who understood. It had always been like that. When she had left, Spencer was alone, until when she came home for a visit, and even though she had given everyone on the team a hug so tight their ribcage almost burst, it was with Spencer she had lingered. Because she saw that something was not right with the way he smiled. And she noticed the shadows, the darkness that lingered amongst the hazel brown in his eyes.

"Hi, Reid," she whispered.

Her lips almost touched his ear, it was an accident. For a moment she felt embarrassed, but he kissed her on her forehead and his hands clutched her jacket for moment while she put her arms around him. He smiled.

"I've missed you, Emily."

"And I you."

She put his hair behind his ear and this new way of touching him didn't feel strange, it felt natural. When she withdrew she still held her hand around his overarm. She looked at him, but when she got close, seeing the emotion shift in his eyes, his glance dropped to the floor. These brown, almost golden eyes with the expanded pupils, they darkened the colour. There was something he didn't want her to see.

"How are you, Spencer?"

she asked, and her head leaped a little to the side. With his eyes still concentrated on the floor, the gaze wandering slightly to the side, he answered.

"I'm fine," and he looked up at her, asking:" And you, how are you? I guess you work too much."

He grinned, and she laughed, almost forgetting how good of an actor he could be sometimes. Joining in, Hotch came and turned to Emily saying how nice it was to see her, and when he turned to Spencer asking if they were going to sit down at the table near the door, Emily noticed how Spencer made sure not to meet his eyes. He smiled, nodded and gripped Emily's hand leading her toward Hotch and the others.

After a couple of beers, the conversation they had all had with each other began losing focus and broke into multiple small conversations. Across from the table, Emily could hear Garcia telling JJ how much her new born son looked like Will. Hotch who sat across from her and Spencer, had turned his attention toward Rossi who was teasing Morgan about his shirt. It had coloured off in the wash, and where there were supposed to be white, it had turned pink. Hotch laughed, holding his beer in his left hand.

Spencer met Emily's eyes when she smiled at him. In the shade where the light from the lamp didn't reach, she could see that his eyes were glassy. A veil stroked over his glance, and suddenly she understood that he was somewhere else, somewhere far, where reality didn't reach him, and where the kindness of a smile didn't console his woe.

He broke away from her stare and bit his lip. He turned around and focused his eyes on the bartender who was rubbing the table with a cloth. He was probably removing a stain. Emily nipped at Spencer's shirt and when he gave her his attention she asked if he wanted to come with her. Said she needed some air, and they got up, leaving the table where their elated colleagues sat.

Outside the air was cold; ruthless it flared through their clothes and shivered through their bones. They didn't say anything for a long time. She had never seen him so quiet before. It scared her. She took his hand and warmed it between hers. He looked down at her hands while they rubbed his, and then he locked eyes with her, meeting her stare.

She tried telling him something, not using words she tried to make him understand, her expression being her language. Piercing her eyes in his, she demanded him to speak. He looked away again. He seemed to like that she held is hand. He leaned backwards towards the stone wall of the building. For a brief moment she wanted to kiss him. She didn't. Spencer had closed his eyes, his head resting against the wall. He seemed relaxed, at peace almost, but the shadows under his eyes gave him away. Emily wasn't easy to fool, she knew what to look for and her suspicion wasn't wrong.

" _Spencer…"_ she whispered, his eyes were still closed. He turned his head at her, his smile fading when he saw her concern.

"Your pupils are dilated."

"It's dark," he answered and continued:"Don't you know your pupils expand in the dark, so that they can take in more light? When it's light they grow small."

"Don't be clever."

He bent his head, the wind ruffling his hair. A lock of his hair fell from behind his ear and swung before his face. It looked almost like a coiled snake hanging there, blowing gently in the wind. From the dim light shining from the neon sign above them, she could see his face, half buried in shadow. She touched him behind his neck with her hand, and she went from there and down his shoulders, rubbing his left shoulder. Slowly and gently she touched him, and had this been a different situation, her movements would almost seem sensual.

A tear fell from his eye and splashed down at his sweater. It made a dark mark on the material, sinking, absorbing through the cotton fabric. And more tears came, streaming, slipping. Clumsy and big they glided down his cheeks. He stroked them away with his hand. He was silent, she was silent.

 _Dilaudid._ The drug was his sworn enemy and his best friend.

"How long have you been taking it for?"

He shook his head, as if he didn't want to believe it.

"I only took it on Monday. And I'm on it now, obviously."

A relief soured through her.

"I'm glad. Relieved."

"Why?"

"It could have been so much worse. You could have been taken it for weeks, months even." She replied. Her words seemed to anger him. He looked away from her, and gazed at a car driving away from the parking lot.

"What is it?" she said, frowning with confusion.

"It's just…" his voice disappeared. She figured he was crying again, but when she looked at him, his face was calm.

"Just what?" he didn't answer. This time he turned his head away so that she couldn't see his expression. They were quiet for a while. She gripped his arm, squeezed it.

" **fuck** this…" his voice cracked and he broke down in sobs. His face buried in his hand, he bent slightly forward so that he could, to some degree, conceal how much his body was shaking under his breath. Emily pulled him into a hug, pushed his head slightly so that it rested against her shoulder. He buried his face in the crock of her neck.

He calmed down. His breath eventually became still. He pulled away from her. It looked like he was freezing. The night air was cold and harsh. The stars were shining far up in the sky.

"You wanna go inside? We can sneak past Hoch and the others and sit at a table where they won't see us."

He shook his head.

"Does Hotch know about this, Spencer?"

"I don't think so. But he knows something's wrong."

"How do you figure?" she asked.

"He asked me if I was depressed."

"Are you?"

"I don't fall off the wagon because I want to, Emily."

"I know that."

She could hear laughter coming from the entrance; a car drove off into the night, the lights fading in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

**HI! Here's the second chapter, I really hope you enjoy it! I plan to keep writing, but I don't know if you like it, so I hope that you guys will leave a review so that I will know if you like it or not. :D Thanks a lot!**

 **HOTCHNER'S OFFICE**

Emily had left after that night. She had told Spencer to take care of himself, and promising that she wouldn't say anything to Hotch, she had given him some painkillers. She said that they often worked when the withdrawals became too bad. And they did.

In the weeks following he had taken two painkillers whenever it got bad and quickly he had quietly and unknowingly replaced one addiction with another.

 _Painkillers._

The thing was though, he thought, he wasn't _addicted_ , he could, whenever he wanted, easily even, stop taking them. It was just that they helped him through a tough time, and right now he needed to stay away from Dilaudid.

Hotch had become worried. Spencer noticed how he would glance in his direction, taking note of every time he swallowed those painkillers. Spencer had stopped taking them whenever he was around. Usually he would slip quietly into the bathroom and pop the pills there. Last Monday, Hotch had finally confronted him about it.

"Reid." Hotch nodded in the direction of his office door. Reid was standing with all his report files in his hand, bending carefully forward so that he could lay them down on his desk without any of them falling to the floor.

"Just a moment," he answered, slightly annoyed that everything had to happen _now_ , right when he was swamped. He sighed and when a file dropped to the floor anyway, he uttered a curse under his breath, harsh and just loudly enough so that Hotch heard. When Reid reached his office door he smiled to him, grabbing Reid weakly by his arm before letting go.

Reid had taken a few steps onto hotch's office floor. Standing there and feeling a little misplaced he leaned against one of his bookshelves resting against the right wall. Hotch caught and held eye contact, closing the door he told him to take a seat. Hotchner's voice was light, kind even, and as Spencer sat down he felt himself relax a bit.

"Bad day?" Hotch asked and sat down, not behind his desk but on a chair placed before him. Reid snorted a little and with a frail smile he nodded his head. Hotch went quiet, and after shifting a little in his seat he cleared his throat.

"You've been tense lately" he said and held Spencer's gaze with a stern look on his face. A ray of sun floated from the window and settled over Reid's face. It made him squint, and it was almost like Hotch could see spencer's pupils grow smaller at the touch of the light. It melted together with the hazel brown and turned the colour almost golden.

Reid placed his hands between his thighs, leaning a little forward in his seat, he escaped the sun.

"It's been busy around here lately." He answered, smiling politely.

"Yeah that's for sure," Hotch laughed. An awkward feeling slithered across his insides when Reid only smirked, not from amusement but from forced courtesy. He was different. Maybe Hotch hadn't noticed the years slipping by, but Reid wasn't the twitching, insecure subordinate anymore. His birdlike gestures had turned into controlled and calm movements, and Spencer's privileged intelligence suddenly made him appear superior somehow. Hotch exhaled, seriousness wandered across his face and made a shadow that hadn't been there before. He swallowed and said:

"I asked you, not that long ago if you were depressed." Spencer nodded slowly, waiting for Hotch to continue.

"I've held an eye on you," he continued, but stopped again. Reid frowned but waited patiently. It seemed as though Hotch couldn't quite find his words, it was unlike him.

"Reid, I know you said you were fine, but I don't think you are." Reid bent his head so that it touched his pointed thumb resting in his thighs, and then he quickly pulled himself straight again and heaved a sigh, more annoyed than tired. He avoided eye contact even though he could feel Hotch trying to find it. Hotch would lean his head slightly to the side to see if he could catch Reid's eye but he seemed determined to block him out.

"What's going on, Reid?"

"Nothing," he answered, a little harsher than he had intended. His voice gave out a little, not because he felt like crying, but because his throat was dry. He coughed a little and began jiggling his foot. Reid knew body language like that indicated nervousness and he knew just as well that the same knowledge existed inside Hotch's head.

"I'm at loss here, Spencer," he began, still trying to catch his eye.

"Maybe you should take some time off." Reid's suddenly looked up.

"Hotch, I don't need time off. I'm fine, please." Hotch went quiet, observing him he bit his lower lip and drew in air so that a small, almost mute squeaky sound escaped him.

"Are you afraid to be alone?" he asked, and Reid was surprised by this question.

"Why do you ask me that?"

"Answer the question." Reid looked at him, searched for traces of anger in his superior's eyes, but he only found calm, controlled concern among his sternness. The brown colour of his irises became almost black, his intense stare piercing his eyes became too much and he let go, he drew his eyes away.

"No, I'm no-"

"because you seem almost desperate to surround yourself with work, completely overloading yourself with it, and though you seem to get quickly annoyed with the people around you, you seem oddly desperate to keep them by your side," Hotch interrupted. It wasn't anger that edged his voice, though he had raised it, leaning forward in his chair he practically forced Reid to look at him.

"Everything is just so fucking dark all the time," he finally answered, his voice was still, almost soundless. He peaked up at Hotch who gave him a slight nod, wanting him to continue, but he didn't have anything more to say. The chair Hotch sat in had wheels on it, and with his feet he dragged it with him across the floor as he came closer to Reid. Hotch's knees touched his before one of them slid between Spencer's. Hotch could feel the warmth from Reid's presence and wondered if he found it uncomfortable. But Reid didn't retreat.

Hotch grabbed his team member by his shoulder, firmly and shook it a little, offering the support he knew was too weak, and he was relieved when Spencer gave him a slightly loopsided smile. He didn't' know about the thoughts Reid had had lately, and that he couldn't seem to find a way out of this mess. To take the easy way out, seemed, indeed like the easiest way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone, for your reviews, follows and favorites, it makes my day and it makes me want to keep writing this story!  
Here's chapter three. I'll continue the story soon, but for now this is what I've got :D Hope you like it.**

 **Streaks of Dawn**

Somewhere in the dark a sharp ringing sound pierced through Reid's foggy mind and woke him, not from sleep, but from a deep thought. In the intense silence from the night he had laid squinting, sleep deprived and exhausted, in the barren light from the breaking dawn outside his window.

"It's Hotch." Aarons deep, almost flat voice sounded at the other end of the line, Reid sat up in bed trying to grab the blinds in front of the window with his hand. Holding his phone with his right hand he grabbed the blind with too much force and somehow managed to burst the blind while at the same time dragging with him several books laying on his night table. He cringed as it fell to the floor making a horrible thumping sound in the stillness of his apartment.

"What was that?" Hotch asked.

"It's nothing, I just knocked some books over. New case?"

"Yeah," Hotch answered; "t's bad."

Reid had an eerie feeling that this wasn't going to end well. With no sleep on his conscience he shook from the two cups of coffee he had gulped down during the briefing of the case.

 _Erica and Thomas Harpern, 6 and 8 years old disappeared at the local grocery shop._ Garcia pressed the remote and as a picture of the children showed up at the screen, Reid put two pills in his mouth and swallowed it with the rest of his coffee. Hotch caught his eye and gave him a look Reid couldn't place.

Reid knew the statistics of these cases. Most children died within the hour, he bent down slightly and rubbed his forehead. He hated these cases. They were always so _intense_ , and the parents… ah, the parents. They were hysterical and never, without exception listened to reason. They would have a row with each other and the local police and everyone around them, always blaming everyone else for their kid's disappearance when the truth was that it was nobody's fault but the kidnappers. Reid couldn't help being so fed up with them even though he knew how scared they were. The worst was however how rarely they found the kinds alive, if they found them at all. And the look on their faces when they realized it was over. It was always the same, heavy eyes filled with all these emotions; some were even incompatible, like the mixture of relief and sorrow. Their eyes would drop to the floor and then the shock came, souring through them like a dragon of steel. The thing Reid feared the most was standing there while they cried inconsolably.

"Can I sit here?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, sure." Hotch was glad, and as Reid sat down he smiled at him.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," Reid answered, holding a book with his left hand, he dragged down the blind in front of the small, sealed window of the airplane.

"You don't like looking out when we're flying? The clouds are beautiful, especially when the sun shines through them." Hotch said. He talked quietly, like he didn't want to disturb him somehow.

"I think it's beautiful too, it's just that it's so, light," he answered, smiling awkwardly.

"Are you having a migraine?" concern quickly lined his face, and in the bleak light from the window Reid suddenly noticed the age in Hotch's features, the shades under his eyes and the slightly unshaved stubs of beard made him look weary.

"No. It's fine, he said. When Rossi came Reid started reading. Hotch would glance at him now and again and sometimes it looked as though he weren't really reading, it looked like he just pretended so that it would seem like he didn't just let his mind run free. Sometimes Reid would meet Aarons stare and the third time it happened Reid got annoyed. He gave him this hard, maddened look and Hotch suddenly got so intimidated by Reid's anger that he felt shame flooding through him like a hot wave. Rapidly he dropped his eye and stared hard into the work file he held in his hand.

Outside, the Pennsylvania air was harsh. Among the darkness of the night the glow from a few streetlights danced at the pavement and shone up Reid's pale face, walking a few feet from the rest, like a lone wolf shunned from his group. They had met the parents, they had sat pinned to their seat in the local police station, completely on nerves. Both their children were gone, and apparently the father had once been a part of an organized drug environment and had at that time sold narcotics. But when he quit using, he stopped selling. Not having the money he owed, he had taken his family and moved to another state. It would seem like his gang had tailed him, if so were the case, they hadn't left a ransom note. Maybe killing the kids wasn't a strategy for getting their money back, but only a means of revenge. That meant bad news.

They were getting back to their motels, ordered to get some sleep, but Reid wouldn't get any. Many nights in a row lately he had laid staring at the ceiling, the vague light from the street lamps outside would creep in from the window, making a line of yellowish light twirling along the floorboards. His sheets lay damp from sweat, warped loosely around his body, and finally at the crack of dawn he would feel the sleep nibbling at his eyelids.

This time Reid dreamt. He was back at Hotch's office. The room seemed darker than usual and the lights were dim and ugly, making dangling shadows across Hotch's face. His sympathy was gone, only stern ruthlessness rested among his facial outlines. On his desk were Reid's box of painkillers, they seemed oddly plain against the hard, polished table.

 _"You've been using."_

 _"They're not narcotics!" Reid squealed._

 _"You are abusing medications, this is hardly any different from Dilaudid."_

 _"But I can quit, please."_

 _"You're a bad excuse for an agent, you were never meant for this job." Hotch opened the lid on the box and let the pills fall into Reid's lap._

 _"Drug addict." His voice was an echo. Hotch's brows were bent; he frowned in anger, in disappointment. The shadows in his office seemed to close in on him and soon he was nearly swallowed in darkness. Drug addict._

 _Drug addict._

 _"You're fired, Reid."_

 _Hopelessly Reid fumbled out of his office and ran past all the desks trying to reach the elevator before it closed, all the while he was painfully aware of Morgan's and Emily's, JJ's and Rossi's stares observing him, unwrapping his panic in public._

When he woke he was on the floor, drenched in sweat. His head still swam in the ghosts of his dream, and he could still feel Hotch's judging look at him.

 _Drug addict._

Reid got up from the floor and when he reached the bathroom he closed the door quickly behind him, like he was afraid that someone would stop him even though he was alone. The bleak light from the lamp dangled from the bathroom ceiling. Reid looked at himself in the mirror and found that the darkness under his eyes was digging out valleys, the shadows forming around his carved cheekbones. Reid's hair fell tangled around his head, his curls almost touching his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried rubbing colour in his cheeks, but he still looked ill. He bent forward and drank some water from the tap, pulled socks over his feet and put a thin, woollen jacket on him before heading out the door.

When you reached the entrance of the hallway there was a café of some sort on the left side, a sitting place with tables and chairs. On a table under a window you could get free coffee from a jug and all though it was crappy, Reid still ached for something warm to drink. He hadn't foreseen Hotch and Rossi sitting at the table nearest the coffee jug though, and when Reid filled his paper cup, they said his name.

"Reid, over here!" Reid was startled and jumped so violently that he spilled hot coffee all over his hand.

"God damn it," he said, his voice still croaky from sleep. Rossi came over.

"You can't sleep either?" he said and when he caught a glance of Reid's spilled coffee he groaned.

"Ah, that's too bad. Did we startle you?" Rossi grabbed a napkin and started wiping up coffee from the table.

"Thanks, Rossi," Reid said while rolling up his wet sleeves up his arm.

"Why are you here so late?" he asked.

"Nah, working the case." Rossi said, smirking slightly.

"At 03.00 AM?" Reid frowned, and took a sip from his coffee. Rossi laughed,

"We don't exactly get much work done, not that much you can do with so few leads." Reid nodded and Rossi motioned for him to sit down where Hotch already sat bended over that permanent case file.

He looked up when Reid sat down, his expression was soft. Reid got a feeling that Rossi and Hotch often sat like this, talking about whatever whiles Reid and the others slept.

After all they were great friends.

Sitting there, drinking coffee with them in the middle of the night felt soothing. Somehow he felt at ease here with them. After they'd been quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's company, Hotch broke the silence.

"You couldn't sleep or…?" He wondered and met Reid's eye.

"No, I was asleep, but then I woke up." Hotch nodded and dropped his eye down at the table.

"Do you usually sleep this bad?" he asked, treading carefully. Reid shot him a look of surprise and while looking down into his cup, observing the dark liquid lapping against the cup's walls, he lied:

"No," and looking up a Hotch he continued; "I don't."

Hotch knew that he lied. The shades under his eyes were there for a reason and Reid looked paler than usual. He didn't take the matter further, but standing up, he laid a hand on Reid's shoulder and squeezed it to console him without words and walked away.

Rossi and Reid were left behind, and after a moment of silence, Rossi too stood up and said before leaving:

"I'm here, Spencer. If you wanna talk." The morning outside had begun to rise, streaks of dawn lined the blue sky with pink and orange, and Reid understood that the reason why they hadn't gotten much work done, was because they had discussed _him_.

Before leaving the café empty, Reid swallowed the rest of the coffee along with two painkillers and thought two things at the same time: _one_ , the coffee was cold, and _two_ , the pills were only so that he could sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Trying to juggle both school and different projects this chapter was written in a hurry, sorry. It's probably bad. I hope you like it anyway though! Please review if you have any feedback, good or bad :) Also, if you have any wishes for how the story should develop feel free to share your thoughts!**

 **RELIEF**

Snowflakes swirled just above the ground. A few feet away you could glimpse the outlines making the form of a human shape lying on the ground. Her arm was twisted; the angle looked buckled and misshapen. Her hair lay in messy curls making doodles against the hard, frozen ground. The wind made the snow fall in circles before it landed gently and melted against her skin. Her cheeks were pale, the colour vanished away along with the blood that had left her, it had stopped running in her veins. She looked almost grey, but the whiteness was too bright, and it made her seem unreal somehow.

She lay slightly on her side, her eyes closed. The jacket she wore blew in the wind. It was Erica Harpern, a short life of six years.

Horrified Reid froze to the ground, the sight made him speechless. In the distance he could see Hotch and Morgan walking towards the girl, but Reid stood still. The wind hauled from afar and coldness seeped through his clothes making him shake like a leaf in the middle of autumn. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't cry. Angry he brushed away tears and walked away towards the car. The local police chief had a huge, thick jacket on, it was black and the logo of the police was printed on the back. He had a paper cup in his hand and sipping calmly from it he watched Reid standing with his fingers touching the brims of his nose.

"The first time I saw a body I puked all over my boss's car." The chief laughed and had to rest his arm against the hood of the police car. Reid snorted a little and gave him half a smile.

"You ever been a police officer?" the chief continued.

"No… no I came straight to the BAU," Reid answered, grateful that the other man took his mind of things.

"You're the genius right? The one with the IQ?" Reid just looked at him and tilted his head a little to the side.

"Man, if I had an IQ like that I bet this job would be a piece of cake." The chief let out a silent laugh and gave Reid a captivated look.

"Look, IQ isn't everything. Far from it. The job isn't easy, it never was, and I'm not sure I'm fit for it either," Reid said and turned his head away, focusing his eyes on a car driving in the distance. They were standing in a deserted field, withered grass surrounding them, the snow making the ground wet. His feet were cold, he could feel it now.

The chief looked at him funny. On his lips he wore a surprised grin, and frowning almost scornfully he exclaimed: " _You_? _You're_ not fit for the job! Then what does that make _me,_ I mean…"

Reid met his eyes. He felt sad suddenly, it made him break, but his voice was steady when I spoke: "This job comes with a lot of emotional challenges, if you're lucky you're able to forget the bad cases, distance your emotions from yourself. An IQ of 184 and an identic memory doesn't let you forget, instead it brands visions, horrible screams and the memory of dead body's rotting smell at the insides of your brain. Your mind's no longer a place where you feel safe."

It seemed to shut the older man up.

"Sir, Sir? Are you going to pass out?" JJ grabbed Mr Harpern's upper arm tightly and Morgan drew out a chair for him to sit.

"Take a seat Mr Harpern." JJ's voice was firm, but gentle. The man sat down on the chair behind him. He held his head in his hands and leaned forward resting on his knees. The wind had begun to make swooshing sounds outside and it threw itself violently around. The snow whirled in hysterical circles. Over the night the cold had become relentless.

Reid sat together with Mrs Harpern in a waiting room sort of sofa, it was green and the backrest was hard and made of wood without cushions. Mrs Harpern was sobbing continually. Reid seemed lost for words and sat stiff beside her and didn't know if he should stroke her back or just back the hell off. Some parents became violent in these kinds of cases. One time Reid had been pushed so hard he'd almost fallen backwards and into a bookshelf. Afterwards he felt both embarrassed and guilty at the same time. The fact that he had delivered this kind of bad news a hundred times before didn't seem to matter, Reid had trouble holding back tears anyway.

This time was different however. He felt a throbbing sensation in his hands, it had gone on for a couple of minutes now, and it stung. He tried rubbing his hands together, but he was suddenly distracted by his heart clapping double and out of nowhere he just couldn't breathe. Quickly he stood up and attracted his colleague's attention. He heaved for air and an answer that was obvious hit him with force. He was having a panic attack. But it was so strong that he hadn't felt anything like it before. Tears started to well over and he ran out of there, pushing the door hard with his left hand.

On the left side of the corridor outside the waiting room, Hotch came walking. Guarding the door just out of formality so that nobody would disturb the parents, a police officer was standing with his hands in his pockets. He had seen the whole scene with Reid totally panicking and running out from there, and as Hotch came walking towards him, Hotch saw Reid too. Quickly he turned his attention towards the police officer and stood before him.

"What the hell happened just now?"

"I don't know, he just _freaked_ ," the officer said and lifted his shoulder casually.

Reid had officially screwed this job up. His behaviour was so unprofessional. Had he been a rookie the yes, maybe this would be understandable, but he had worked in the FBI for ten years and counting and he was laying on the bathroom floor heaving for air in a full blown panic attack. The tears just came without Reid realizing. They slipped down his cheeks and fell from his chin and down to the floor, making a splashing mark on the bathroom tiles. He hadn't locked the door and when he heard Hotch's knocking he trying pushing the door with his foot so that Hotch wouldn't be able to open it if he tried.

"Reid?" He didn't answer. Reid had started to breathe in a more normal rhythm, but now sobs were welling up inside him and escaping his mouth. He sat up, his arms around his body while he held the door closed with his foot. Hotch started jerking the doorknob. Reid tried holding his breath so that Hotch wouldn't hear his colossal breakdown, but it just made his lungs yearn for air. He wasn't able to contain the next sob and let out a gasping sound of some sort.

"Reid I'm coming in." Hotch started pushing the door with force and Reid couldn't hold it close with just his foot anymore. In panic he exclaimed;"Hotch, _don't!"_

But it was too late, he had already opened the door and the moment Hotch saw him on the floor he sat down quickly in a squatting position. He leaned forward and grabbed Reid's arm. He pulled him up in a sitting position so that he was sitting more linear with his back leaning against the wall. Reid's sobs had gotten out of control and he let out big, convulsive gasps. When Hotch had gotten a look at Reid he turned and locked the door.

Hotch sat there with him so that Reid would calm down. Partly interrupted by his sobs Reid said in a scratchy voice: "There's… no God Damned… privacy."

But in spite of what he had just said he didn't want Hotch to leave. Hotch just looked at him, concern lining his face, brows furrowed. He didn't touch him or put a hand on his shoulder something Reid was grateful for. It would've quickly become awkward. In his pocket Reid found the pills, and he put two in his mouth before getting up. He sipped water from the sink and swallowed. He sat down on the floor again. The pills made him stop shaking and the sobs had disappeared. They sat there quietly, Reid was glad his breathing was calm again.

"Are those pills making you feel calm?" Hotch asked. He had his hands folded in his lap. Reid shot him a look and he tensed up.

"You've been taking them a lot lately."

"They help with my migraines."

"You told me you weren't having those anymore."

"I lied." Silence hung over them. They were quiet for a couple of minutes and then Hotch broke the stillness.

"This case has taken a toll on you." Reid's eyes dropped to floor.

"I think it's best that you take some time off. Go see a counselor."

"Hotch I'm fine."

"No, you're _not_." Hotch's stern, concerned expression had become angry. Reid understood that his excuses and his "acting-all-fine" began tumbling down. His crisis unfolded, toppled out for everyone to see.

Reid heaved a sigh and pursed his lips. Among all these feelings of shame and embarrassment there was a different feeling, it welled up and let his shoulders fall. _Oh, sweet relief. And here we go another plea, grand us both some linear sea. For another day, can't we just say it will go away?_

 **The lyrics in cursive at the end is from Ola Podrida (2013)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! I hope you enjoy this chapter :D Thanks everyone who has reviewed, favorited or followed this story it honestly makes my day.**

 **CITY LIGHTS**

It had been a while since Hotch noticed that Reid often drank too much when they were out. He was careful about it though, usually he drank in small sips when people were looking at him or when they sat around the table. He was never a loud drinker, quite the opposite actually; he would quiet down, stop participating in the team's conversation. Neither was he a sad drinker, he was never sullen. He would smile and be still and listen while the liquor slowly made his eyes water.

Hotch reckoned he'd had a lot of practice. When Reid got up from the chair he never swayed, never lost balance. The only time you really could notice that Reid had drunk too much, was if you talked to him; his usually energetic way of talking would disappear among his sedated expressions, and his wide knowledge and fun-facts would, instead of ending with a point or meaning, spill out from him with no coherence at all.

It had gone three weeks since Hotch had confronted him about the pills in the toilet in Pennsylvania, three weeks since Reid refused to go home and not only stayed at the case, but also almost single-handily solved it by getting the clues no one else saw. Hotch knew he had worked extra hard just to prove himself so that Hotch wouldn't doubt his ability to do his job right. Reid was drained afterwards. He fell asleep at the plane and while everyone else slept too, Hoch went snooping in his brown leather bag and found his pain killers hidden inside the pocket of a hoodie. The box had been empty, and Hotch figured it was the reason why Reid slept so well.

After the case Reid seemed to have gotten back on his feet a little, he cheered up a bit and talked more. Hotch forgot about the pills, he hadn't seen him taking one since the Pennsylvania trip and Hotch trusted that he'd just had a rough patch. He didn't have to babysit Reid, he knew that. Reid was a wise man. It was just that somehow, in the past couple of years, especially after Gideon died, he'd gotten these fatherly feelings for him and it cluttered his ability to act professionally towards his subordinate. Besides, Hotch had an odd feeling that Reid found his protective nature comforting, soothing the feeling of abandonment he knew Reid had carried since childhood.

It was the BAU's annually Christmas party. Garcia was dressed as Santa Clause. She had a large red jacket decorated with small, sparkling sequins that glistened in the light from the candles. The whole department was there, not just the team, and among the packed crowd of co-workers Reid got a glimpse of Grant Anderson and suddenly came to think of the time he had taken Elle Greenaway home after that draining case about his mother's fellow patient at Bennington Sanitarium. He remembered suddenly the time he had slipped inside Elle's motel room and she had told him how it had felt to have a murderer's hand inside her gun-shot wound. She was drinking then, Reid thought and chugged down the rest of his mulled wine. It tasted more liquor than mulling spices and he grimaced as he remembered the conversation he'd had with Elle. The liquor she drank because she could still feel the hand inside of her wound. He hadn't understood, he had told her that she had won and he hadn't seen the defeated light in her eyes as she had raised her glass and said: _"then here's to winning."_ He knew now that she hadn't won, and he knew he wouldn't win either.

Hotch could see Reid's thoughts wandering, how a veil of thoughts and memories filmed his glace like a ghost and how he just pretended to hear what JJ said. Rossi poked at one of Garcia's sequins covering her jacket and laughed when she flipped him off and cursed jokingly. Reid left, and keeping an eye on him while he shambled across the floor, shoulders sunken, he noticed how he slightly stumbled over the threshold and disappeared out of view.

Reid followed the staircase to the top, knew it leaded to the roof where, if you stood close to the edge, it would seem like you could see every house in DC, no matter how big or small. Gideon had taken him there once, just before he left. They had stood in silence watching the rooftops of every surrounding building covered in the night air, and Gideon had pointed at the stars, making a cheesy remark on how the stars were a reminder of how one could always find light in the darkness if you looked around you.

Reid stepped onto the edge and looked at the sky. The cold wind ruffled his clothes and he shivered in the night air even though the alcohol had made him numb. There were no stars tonight. Maybe they extinguished when Gideon died. A tear fell from Reid's eye and splashed down at the perimeter he was standing on. If he slipped he would fall over the edge. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

He spread his arms, felt the wind push him forward and he toyed with the thought of leaning over. He spat over the edge and saw the spit falling, fading away into darkness. He let the heel of his shoe brush against the edge and suddenly he felt himself being yanked backwards and down onto to the flat roof. He fell against the ground, the other person's arms the only thing holding him up on his feet.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Hotch asked, gripping Reid's shoulders so tightly he was sure they would bruise. The fear was etched to Hotch's words, he seemed almost angry. Reid gained control and stood balanced at the ground.

"I was…" he started, but asked instead:"how did you know I was here?"

Hotch let go a little, but was still holding on to him, afraid that he would slip away.

"You're not the only one Gideon showed this place to." Reid pulled away from Hotch's grip, walked a little to the left and stared into the distance.

"Were you going to jump, Reid?" Hotch's voice was calm, his tone lowered into a croaky whisper. Reid snorted and went quiet. He had turned his back completely to Hotch, didn't want him see his face while it broke into sobs.

"I don't know," he spoke. Hotch walked closer. Reid could feel his presence like warmth against his back even though they weren't touching. A smell of something sweet, like cinnamon came with the wind as quickly as it was gone.

"Why does the thought of jumping appeal to you?" Hotch asked, voice still lowered into a calm whisper. He was standing right behind him, if he were to lift his arm it would touch Reid's back. But Hotch stood still. Reid was glad he wasn't faced to Hoch, couldn't bear the thought of meeting his boss's stern look, concern lining his aging features and the kindness swimming in the brown colour of his irises, soaking it with empathy and making the pupils grow in the dark. Warm tears streaked his face, fell from his cheek and down onto his jacket. His head was slightly bowed, exposing his naked neck. It shone pale in the weak light from the city.

Hotch waited for Reid to speak, but he didn't.

"Let me get you out of this mess, Reid." He eventually said, his dark voice sweeping against Reid's skin like a caressing hand. Reid nodded and let out a wounded wail and Hotch gripped his shoulder hard and began rubbing his hand against the stiff muscles in his neck while Reid's darkness came welling out of him in broken sobs. When Reid put his hands up to his face Hotch turned him around and embraced him, his arms wrapped tightly around his lean body shape. Reid felt the stubs of beard on Hotch's jaw brush his skin as he let his face sink into the crook of Hotch's neck. In the sky a wispy cloud came sliding with the wind, revealing a star flickering in the distance.


End file.
